


The Shining Key

by AnnaDruvez



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Shining (1980)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaDruvez/pseuds/AnnaDruvez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Scoobies visit the Overlook with intent to buy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

###  Cold!

Rupert Giles fought down his laugh at the sight of the teens – young adults, actually – sitting in the library of their Cleveland branch. They were huddled into each other for warmth and sharing a green woolen blanket. If one believed their shivering, their lips should be blue and icicles hanging from their noses. He bit his lower lip and did his best to appear deep in thought, fighting not to think of how winter hadn't even really gotten started yet.

Dawn, her head buried underneath Xander's chin, spoke up. “Can we get on with the meeting? I have a space heater to get back to.”

At least, that's what Giles thought she said. It was hard to tell through the vibrations her shaking caused in her trachea and diaphragm. He realized all eyes were on him and sighed. At least the rest of the Slayers were in the gym practicing, so he had only the core 'Scoobies' (plus Dawn) to deal with. “Yes, of course.”

He picked up a book and flipped it open, then turned it so that they could see the illustration on the page. “I give you the Overlook Hotel. It's a hotbed of spiritual activity from what I can determine. Why the Council never dealt with it is beyond me....”

He cut off his own tangent before it started. “At any rate, it is both likely to be heavily haunted and up for sale. Which brings me to the point: I believe we can purchase the hotel and clear it out. It's isolated enough that the younger Slayers can train there in peace, and we can keep backup copies of our library there in order to avoid the catastrophe that was the loss of the old Council Archive.”

Xander cut in. “Um. Where exactly is this? Cause those look like mountains and it's gotta be really cold in winter.”

Giles nodded. “Colorado, actually. And it does get cut off when the snow falls. However, for whatever reason, the snow hasn't come in yet.” He could tell he was losing them. Xander and the others seemed to be almost disappearing into their blanket cocoon. “However, it is still warmer than Cleveland.”

Their eyes – which had been slowly starting to drift from disinterest – snapped up. “Warmer?”

“At least ten degrees warmer.” He could see the gears turning in their heads. Xander was no doubt pondering the difficulty of attaining comestibles. Buffy was deliberating on the distance to the nearest shopping mall. Willow, he knew, was debating their ability to combat a spirit on its own territory – they'd not had much luck with it in the past. 

Xander surprised him. “Wouldn't it be a pain to get Slayers in and out in winter if the snow cuts it off?”

He blinked at the boy – young man – and smiled. Perhaps he was growing up. “Actually, since we planned to make their training out to be a summer-camp type affair, we could simply close down in winter. During the months it was closed down, anything demonic would have just as much difficulty trying to break in as we would....” He paused. “With a few exceptions, of course, but they are rare.”

Buffy frowned at him. She was almost pouting. “Could vamps get there?”

He shook his head. “They have some of the same difficulties with wading through snow that we do, if not more. Their bodies do not maintain a constant temperature, so they are at risk of... well....”

Xander laughed in a bit of dark humor. “Vampcicles. Freeze solid and wait for spring.”

“Essentially.” He pulled his glasses off to polish them. The children did have such an odd way with words at times. “Assuming the sun doesn't take care of the problem before they... melt. At the very least, the inevitable cracking as a result of forcing their joints to move causes considerable damage and results in a near frenzied state. That's why there aren't more vampires in the northern wildernesses.”

Buffy sighed and nodded. Willow tucked the blanket closer around herself before making her voice heard. “Okay. But... what about this haunting? We've had some horrible luck with them.”

He nodded at her. “That is true. However, we have time to plan where normally we do not.”

She cocked her head in thought for a moment before nodding and burying herself back into Xander's shoulder. “Okay. Let's do it.”

Her voice was muffled, but easily understandable. One by one, the others nodded.

* * *

Coordinating the luggage of six people should have been more difficult. However, it was fairly easy after having done the same for fifty girls at a time. Xander glanced back at the group waiting by the terminal and sighed. It wasn't that he wanted Faith to join them on the trip. It really wasn't. It's just....

Why'd they have to bring Andrew?

Okay, so he knew some spells and had experience summoning and controlling demons. But, still... Andrew? Mister I-Annoy-You-With-My-Camcorder Wells? That was just.... Okay, maybe. He watched the minor scuffle as the summoner tried to get out of the press of bodies without dropping his instrument case.

At least he was better than Kennedy. And there was a discussion he was glad not to have witnessed personally. Even second-hand it sounded nasty. Willow and Kennedy fighting over whether she could join them was not an amusing thought. They were already bringing Buffy, though, and brute strength wasn't likely to be much of a help.

Willow, Giles – and, yes – Andrew, were the heavy hitters on this trip. Andrew was also going to cook for them. Dawn was research support and Buffy was heavy lifting. His own reason for being there was far more mundane: he was supposed to check over the structural integrity of the buildings and make sure the place wasn't going to fall down in the next few years.

Hey, it wasn't ghost hunting, but it was just as important.

* * *

The trip up to the hotel was uneventful, and the first view of it was fairly uninspiring. The gardens were overgrown to the point that you couldn't even see where the topiaries had been. A few of the windows were boarded, the ones that weren't were broken. The exterior paint was peeling and the wind off the surrounding countryside cut straight to the bone.

Dawn was not impressed.

She let her eyes drift closed, trying to get a feel for the place, and nearly felt her heart stop. She hadn't felt this kind of malevolence since she was in Sunnydale. Even the Cleveland Hellmouth didn't come close. From the way their three magic-users gasped, she was sure that they'd noticed it, too. 

For a moment she couldn't speak, but then she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. “I-I don't like it here.”

“I didn't either. Not really. But it grows on you.” The voice was unfamiliar to her. She turned her head, slowly. The grinning face of Jack Torrance – receding hairline, tux, dilated eyes, maniac smile and all – materialized under her gaze. “We've been waiting for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

### Visitations

The group paused just inside the doorway when they heard the yelp. One glance around had Buffy groaning and turning back towards the outside. “Dawn!”

Her frantic rush for the door was abruptly aborted when her younger sister ran inside panting. “That... was creepy.”

Her heart still in her throat, Buffy swept her sister up into a hug. “What happened?”

“R-remember that Torrance guy? From the history of the place?” At Buffy's nod, she continued, “He was just outside with me.”

They froze. Buffy, her arms still around her sister, growled. She could hear Giles cleaning his glasses behind her, the scraping of his handkerchief across the glass clearly audible to her. “Did he say anything?”

Dawn nodded. “He said that they'd been waiting... for me.”

Buffy didn't hesitate. She picked up her sister's luggage and was heading for the door. Dawn, however, was having none of it. “No! I am not going to run, Buffy.” 

The blonde Slayer turned to look at her. She knew she should tamp it down a bit, but the Slayer was in full control at the moment. It's only mandate was to protect, and her sister always sent it into over drive. “Why not?”

Dawn straightened her shoulders. “We can't let this continue. From the file... the house gets stronger every time someone dies here. If we don't clean it out, who knows what will happen? It could spread or... I don't know, summon Hastur or Zoth-Ommog or something!”

Buffy turned to carry the luggage out of the door, anyway. Xander stepped in front of her. “Buff... she's got a point.”

“Buffy.” Giles' voice caused her to turn around. “We need to stop this. I doubt that Dawn's... creative scenario is accurate. However, until we are certain of what the worst eventuality might be, we need to find a way to stop this entity. Leaving will not accomplish that goal.”

She sighed and, Slayer under control for the moment, nodded.

* * *

Andrew was probably the only one who didn't outwardly complain about their disappointing sleeping arrangements. Sure, they had a whole hotel at their disposal. They could have had almost half a floor each. He was still much happier sharing a room with the other two males in their group.

The building had a vibe.

As in it was steeped in the Dark Side.

It didn't help that he heard phantom noises everywhere he went. The little ambient sounds of residents past drifted through his mental 'ears' no matter where he walked. One room was the worst about it, though. Like Bourbon Street, the party never ended in the Overlook Hotel Ballroom.

He didn't even want to get started on what he felt every time he approached the bar area.

For all that Xander was usually a big meanie, Andrew was glad that he didn't seem to mind being followed around. Some part of him argued that it might be due to his own feelings of unease, but Andrew thought that was unlikely. After all, Xander wouldn't be scared of something like this. Would he?

* * *

Xander was having problems of his own. Caleb had called him the 'One Who Sees.' He'd liked that title – right up until the bastard had poked his eye out. Right now, he'd give anything for him to have taken them both so that he could be the 'One Who Saw Nothing.'

He'd write off the images of the dead – well dressed, desiccated corpses dancing in the ballroom in their 1940's best – as his imagination, but Andrew was practically climbing up the back of his shirt. The little weasel didn't seem to notice when one passed through him, so Xander was pretty sure he wasn't seeing them. Still, the way he kept rubbing his ears....

What was worse? Sight with no sound, or sound with no sight?

* * *

Willow and Giles left Buffy and Dawn in the Foyer, busily digging through books in an attempt to find an appropriate dispelling ritual. A quick spell over his glasses and Giles was tracing psychic presences all through the building. Willow, her senses expanded out further than his, was tugging him down into the basement....

Honestly, what they found at the bottom of the rickety stairs was rather anti-climactic. The large stone area had been partitioned off neatly. There was a laundry area, some storage, and the boiler. He honestly didn't know why.... That's when he noticed Willow standing and staring at a wall. “This shouldn't be here.”

He moved forward to examine it and frowned. It looked like all the other walls around them. He touched it. It... didn't feel like them. It felt like energy. “I believe that it's a barrier of some sort.”

“It is.” Before he could stop her, Willow's hand lifted and her power flared. “Aperio.”

The 'wall' flared blue for a moment and the rest of the basement was revealed. A pentagram, burned and melted into the stone beneath it, surrounded a seal on the ground. A very familiar seal bearing the image of an animal skull. One that he had last seen beneath Sunnydale High School. A Seal of Danzalthar. “Oh dear.”

* * *

“We're on a Hellmouth!” Buffy's voice rang unnaturally loud through the dining hall.

“Not quite.” Willow pulled out another book and continued her work on the runes she'd copied down from the melted circle surrounding the seal. Across from her, Dawn was working on the same thing. In a few minutes, they'd stop and compare. “I think... if I'm reading this right... It looks like someone tried to create a Hellmouth.”

Xander blinked. “Not to ask the stupid question, but why would you want to do that?”

Giles rubbed his eyes. “Hellmouths are centers of mystical convergence. I can only imagine that someone was hoping to tap into the power released by one.”

Buffy stared at her rapidly cooling coffee. “Then why not just go use one of the already Hellmouth-y ones?”

Xander blinked as an idea hit him. “The mayor.”

“Huh?” Willow paused to look at him. She wasn't alone, the others were staring at him, too.

“No, work with me here.” Xander leaned forward. “You're a mage at the turn of the century, right? You want the power. But – here's the kicker – you aren't sure you can beat the competition.”

Andrew, against the wall, paused his ear rubbing. “So you make your own. That way you don't have to fight to get it, and you can still tap into the power in case someone else comes to claim it.”

Giles looked between the two of them. “That's an... insightful theory. You may be right.”

Dawn lifted her head from her work. “Then why would they want me?” She paused and groaned. “It's the Key, isn't it? They need me to finish ripping the hole.”

Willow nodded. “That's what I seem to be getting from this.”

“Dammit.” Dawn turned to Buffy. “I guess the two of us are leaving in the morning.”

All Buffy could think was that she wished she hadn't left the Scythe with Faith. That physical weapons were useless against ghosts was beside the point. She wanted her scythe-shaped security blanket!

* * *

The bad thing, Dawn reflected, about leaving in the morning was that the weather sometimes had other ideas. Overnight, a foot-deep blanket of snow had taken up residence on the yard and it didn't seem to be letting up. It was high noon and it looked like midnight. She could barely see more than a few feet from the window she was peeking through.

She glanced behind her at where the others were sitting. “I don't suppose we could just magic this away?”

She smiled a bit at the resounding 'NO' she got in response. She knew that they couldn't, but it was always good to keep them on their toes. One of these days, they'd say yes to something and she'd have fun laughing at them about it for years after. Or, maybe, just blackmail them into a lifetime supply of shoes.

She glanced at the doorway and frowned. Jack was leaning against one side of it in an old flannel shirt and jeans. He flashed her a grin and then turned to watch her friends. She decided to call it to their attention. “We have company.”

The others followed her gaze, but only Xander jumped from his seat. “Holy....”

Buffy looked between the two, confused. Willow frowned. “Who are you seeing?”

“Torrance, again.”

Looking almost hurt, the red haired girl looked at Xander. “How come you can see him when I can't?”

“One Who Sees, remember?”

“Oh. Really?” Her eyes were wide and she looked back and forth between him and the door.

“Yep.” Xander glanced at her and then back at Jack. “Not really liking it so much.”

Jack shrugged. “Not really up to you to like it or not.”

Andrew fell out of his seat and Dawn jumped. Xander pulled him to his feet. “Andrew's been hearing them. I can see them. I guess Dawn can do both.”

“Well, what'dya expect? She is the Key. Of course she can see what's walking between. Especially here.”

Andrew blushed. Feeling a little impish in spite of her terror (or maybe because of it), Dawn leaned towards him and stage whispered. “Great voice, huh? I can kinda see why his wife put up with him.”

“Yeah....” The summoner realized he was being stared at. “I-I mean... I don't know what you're talking about.”

Dawn laughed. “Sure you don't.” She turned back to the doorway, deliberately casual. She'd seen her sister rile the bad guys with that demeanor so often that it was almost easy for her. “So, why'd you drop in?”

“Just wonderin' how you were comin' along.” The rest of the gang tracked his movements through Dawn and Xander. The two were following him with their eyes as he casually circled the table and looked over their shoulders. “You folks are good, aren't you?”

He continued his circuit and strode calmly from the room. Dawn released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. “We have got to do something about this.”

* * *

Jack drifted into the shadows that infested the Overlook. He could feel the Other looking for him. His brief contact with the living had been risky, but he'd been hoping that being seen would make them afraid enough to leave. It hadn't worked and he hadn't been able to bring himself to do anything truly harmful in order to get the point across. Still....

Apparently, they did this sort of thing for a living. At least, if their attitudes were to be believed. (Ghost hunting for a living? How he would have scoffed at that when he was alive!) He drifted carefully through the other ghosts, not causing a ripple or a shake. He'd had thirty years to learn how to avoid the Other, and got better at it all the time. 

Gliding through the flow of ambient energy, he manipulated it to send a frantic eddy towards the kitchen. The Other followed it gleefully. It was easily fooled into thinking it could catch him. It's hunger for what remained of Jack Torrance knew no bounds, obscuring what rational thought it possessed. 

But, if it caught him, he would quickly resemble the rest of the desiccated souls trapped in the hotel. 

Jack had no intention of being caught.

He fought down the memory of rending, tearing pain as he'd escaped the first time. He'd lost a piece of himself then, he knew. It was a piece he was okay with losing, though. As thankful as he was to have the rage and pain that had always lingered in the back of his mind gone, he didn't want feed the rest of himself to the monster.

Thankfully, the living beings in the hotel distracted the shape-shifting shade most of the time.


	3. Chapter 3

### Deadbolt

Dawn watched the clock tick slowly past midnight. Her sister, asleep next to her, had rolled towards the window and nearly off of the bed. Willow was on the other bed in the room. Her sleep was restless, too, if her mutterings of purple sheep were any indication. 

Dawn, however, had a mission. It didn't need her to get up or go chasing after who knew what. No, she just had to lie there and compare her memories. Something was... wrong.

The first Jack she'd met had claimed that they'd been waiting for her. He'd been otherworldly. The light shining in his eyes wasn't the sun or Heaven. It had been sooty – vile and evil – for all that he'd seemed calm, cool and pristine in his tuxedo.

The second Jack, though. He'd been unkempt: a bit of a stubble on his face, his flannel shirt mostly unbuttoned. His smile had been relaxed and easy, even though his eyes were so sad.... The light in them was almost fey. It was knowing but not malicious.

What the heck was going on here?

* * *

The snow didn't let up for days. By the time they could finally see outside, the first floor was almost completely buried. There would be no snowman building for this crew.... Unless they wanted to climb out of a window on the second floor.

The general consensus to that was 'no thanks.'

Willow silently handed her notes to Dawn, then headed for the coffee pot. Buffy was dissecting one of Andrew's home made cinnamon buns, while Giles took a few minutes to read something recreational – though none of the Scoobies could see how 'A Tale of Two Cities' was recreation. Xander was going over his own notes on the condition of the hotel. Andrew had pulled his pan flute out of its case and was playing 'a jaunty little tune,' as Spike would have put it.

Dawn would have been worried, but she was fairly sure no self-respecting demon would be summoned by 'Farmer in the Dell' and – if they did – she just had to see what kind! She was willing to bet that it would be an imp at best.

She went over Willow's notes. Then re-read them. Her eyes slowly rose to meet the witch's. If this was right....

Willow met her gaze steadily. There was no deceit there, not that Dawn could see. She swallowed. It was a terrifying prospect. She couldn't see her sister allowing the attempt. Best not to mention it to her, then.

* * *

It was almost one in the morning on a new moon, three days and a night since she first saw what Willow handed her. Dawn slipped carefully out of the bedroom. Willow was beside her. Buffy, still asleep thanks to a little mystical intervention on Willow's part, just let out a snore.

The two glided down the hallways, as quiet and nearly as invisible as the ghosts that haunted the hotel. They eased down the stairs. They managed not to make a single sound on the aged wood. Dawn was certain her heartbeat could be heard for miles.

They crossed the basement and stood on either side of the pentagram. They shared a glance, each trying and failing to reassure the other. Dawn drew the ceremonial knife out of her pocket and knelt by the Seal.

“Ego sum viam apertor.”

Her voice echoed weirdly in the space, but she ignored it and the faint sound of dust shifting.

“Ego sum custos claustra.”

Her hair stirred back from her face. Willow, across the seal from her, was keeping herself centered so that her own energies didn't interfere with the spell. Her presence hadn't been necessary, but Dawn felt better for it.

“Ego sum qui sinit ostium.”

The door at the top of the stairs briefly slammed open, only to close. She could hear Giles and Buffy yelling on the other side. She didn't know if the house had woken them or if Buffy had thrown off the sleep spell. Either way, she didn't care at the moment.

“Avertam istam viam.” 

Xander, upstairs with the others, yelled about getting an axe and breaking down the door with it. Dawn fought to keep her attention on the ritual.

“Suscito castigabat obiectu.” 

The seal was glowing. She closed her eyes as the fine dust in the room flew around her.

“Ego nega introitum.” 

There was the sound of an axe rebounding off of the door after trying and failing to bite into the wood.

“Sic fiat.”*

The green energies of the Key welled up in her hand, coalescing in her palm. She ignored the raging winds and dust scouring her face. She drew her blade across the light and dribbled it on the seal....

Silence. The dust hung there, frozen in mid-air.

Her energy rushed out of her, faster and faster. Green strands laced across the seal. They reached out into the hotel and wrapped around something unseen, before pulling whatever it was – screaming and writhing – into the glowing amalgam that was slowly formed. Green fire lanced through it, around it, melting it. The heat built and built and built. The metal bubbled and smoked. Then, at last, it vaporized and was no more.

Dawn collapsed to the side, giggling. Willow, almost as exhausted from tension, fell the opposite direction. “Too bad we can't destroy every Hellmouth that way.”

“Couldn't if I wanted to.”

Willow turned her head and raised her eyebrow.

Dawn laughed lightly. “Buffy is never going to let me near one ever again.”

* * *

Six months later, the Council had managed to move copies of most of their Archives into what was once a secondary ballroom. The basement ritual area had been cleansed repeatedly. The main ballroom had – much to Dawn's disgust – been turned into a gym for the Slayers. Comfortable and classy beds were replaced with bunks, and Slayers from age fifteen and up were calling the Hotel home for the summer.

She watched out the window, seeing Faith having a training session with some of the Sunnydale Slayers. Well, Faith called it a training session. Xander called it a cat-fight when he thought no one could hear him. Spike would have called it a murder in progress and then reached for the popcorn, blood and whiskey.

She felt the presence behind her and smiled. “How long are you going to hide from the others?”

“How long till you tell'em I'm here?”

She turned to face Jack. As usual, he'd found something to lean against. This time it was the bookcase by her bathroom door. “I haven't decided.”

“Well, there's your answer.”

She snorted. “Still no sign of the Other?”

He shook his head. “I think he wound up destroyed by whatever it was you did.”

“Good.” Dawn smiled and pondered how a key could open the lock attached to a doorknob – or throw a deadbolt home.

* * *

In the garden, a shadow swirled as the lion topiary it was attached to began to snarl.

* * *

  
**Dawn's Spell of Closing**   
_roughly designed by Google Translate_

I am the opener of pathways.   
I am the keeper of barriers.   
I am the one who allows entrance.   
I close this path.   
I raise this barrier.   
I deny entrance.   
So mote it be.


End file.
